


Unexpected

by amaradangeli



Series: That Covers It [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: The man didn't know when to stop, that was his problem. Always had been. He had a way of needling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The art is very important in this series of stories because the art comes first and the story comes second. The art is like the prompt. So take it in and then read the story!
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/semiresponsive1/35528814420/in/album-72157683563675853/)  
> Art by Samantha-Carter-is-my-muse

Sam brushed the long brown hair out of her eyes. The damn wig was more nuisance than anything else, but she understood why it was necessary. Running was out of the question in the stupid wedge heels she was wearing – whose bright idea were these things, anyway? She smoothed her hand down over the grey skirt of her dress and fingered the hem of her black sweater. What she wouldn't give for BDUs right now. How was she supposed to get the colonel back dressed like this? 

She figured she blended in, at least, and that was good. The women on this planet all looked eerily similar. And it was why she was in this getup in the first place. To keep her from standing out. To keep her from being the one who needed to be rescued. Moreover, it would get her into the building where the the colonel was being held. But she was still an outsider and that would mean actually getting to the colonel was going to be difficult. 

The man didn't know when to stop, that was his problem. Always had been. He had a way of needling. And needle the wrong people often enough and finally you're going to needle someone with a short enough temper to jail your delectable ass. 

She slipped her hand into the pocket of her sweater and fingered the handgun there, just to reassure herself she was still armed. She hoped she wouldn't need it, but if things went south, well, she wasn't going to be unarmed when they did. 

She walked at a comfortable if well measured clip as she made her way down the sidewalk towards the jail. She passed woman after disconcertingly familiar looking woman – it was like passing fun house mirrors. The only difference was, they were all walking gracefully, slowly, as if they had nowhere in particular to be. She felt like she was tromping along in combat boots even though her combat boots were nowhere to be found. 

At the front entrance to the jail she found several people loitering around the doors smoking long, thin looking cigarettes. She stepped through the cloud of smoke and pulled the door open. A rush of conditioned air blew her wig back from her face and she felt the contraption shift on her head. She reached up to hold it in place and wondered if she looked crazy with her hand flat on top of her head or if she just looked eccentric. She feigned nonchalance and sifted her fingers through the hair as best she could – not as easy as she'd hoped for as it turned out. She hoped no one was paying close attention to her. 

There was a bank of windows all with uniformed people behind them. Sam chose the one with a young woman snapping gum, looking bored. She walked with purpose up to the window and set her hands down on the ledge authoritatively. "I'm here to see Jack O'Neill." 

"Prisoner number?" 

Sam faltered momentarily. "I don't know." 

The woman snapped her gum and turned to a computer screen. She had long, vermillion nails which she held poised over a holographic keyboard. "Spell his family name." 

"O. N. E. I. L. L," Sam said patiently, hoping that playing along nicely would get her back to the colonel without having to explain that they were aliens. Because aliens were about as kidnappable as blondes apparently and that wouldn't do any of them any good. 

"He's in corridor U, awaiting further processing. Head straight down that hall," she pointed her long fingernail through the hole in the window past Sam's shoulder, "you'll run right into him." 

"Thank you." 

Sam spun on her wedge heels and made her way down to corridor U. Each cell she passed she looked in dutifully until she found him. Sitting on a cot, head thrown back against a cement wall, eyes closed, shirt... nowhere to be found. Damn, but the man was easy on the eyes. She shook her head to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts of her CO and approached the bars. She wrapped her hands around them. "Sir?" 

He cracked one eye open and peered at her. "Carter." 

"How are you?" 

"I'm in jail." 

"Hopefully not for long." 

"Come to spring me?" 

"Well, in a manner of speaking..." 

"Not this very moment, I take it." 

"I don't have much of a plan yet." 

"So this is a social call?" 

"I needed to make sure you were all right." 

He pushed himself up off the cot and approached her. His eyes softened. "Yeah, Carter, I'm all right. Not too thrilled to be wrongfully jailed. And this place isn't exactly the Hilton, but I'm all right." 

"You haven't been processed in, yet," she broke the news to him. 

Darkness shadowed his eyes. "Ah." 

"We'll get you out, sir. Never leave a man behind, right?" 

He reached out and fingered a strand of her long brown hair. "I miss the blonde," was all he said. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

The next time she saw him was from a distance and he didn't look as good. He looked tired, haggard, and a little jumpy. And he still didn't have a shirt. 

She had a bandage on her wrist and her knees were skinned up and she no longer looked like one of the Stepford-wives of the planet. It had been a hell of a few days and they were no closer to having the colonel back out of the prison.  

General Hammond was recommending a surgical strike and other SG teams and she had to admit that she thought, at this point, that was the best bet – relations with the planet and their superior technology be damned. She was ready to shuck her disguise and come in geared up and guns blazing, but she was deemed unnecessary to the strike. 

So she waited – sans disguise – back at the SGC for SGs –3 and –5 to come back with her CO. 

When they came back through the gate he looked a little worse for the wear after several days in the alien prison. He was in taupe linen pants, a three day beard, and nothing else. 

He found her in her lab late that night feigning work by lamplight. 

"Whatcha still doing here?" 

"Work," she said, indicating all the papers on the lab table in front of her. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." 

"It's twenty one hundred, Carter, and you're still here. What's wrong?" 

She sighed. "The General wouldn't let me come back for you." 

"You spent three days doing everything you could, the way I heard it told. You needed to stop. You needed the rest." 

"I told you we wouldn't leave you behind." 

"And you didn't." 

" _I_ did!" She exclaimed. 

"Daniel and Teal'c were stood down, too, if you'll recall correctly." 

"Yeah," she said smally. Her pity party wasn't going to work if he was going to insert logic. And he knew that. 

He gave her a small smile. "I'm fine, by the way." 

"You didn't look fine." 

"It was prison, not camp, but I'm no worse for the wear." 

Suddenly she was overcome with the need to... She flung herself at him in a very undignified manner. He caught her with an oomph and wrapped his arms around her. She could tell that he hadn't expected her embrace – he'd always been the one to initiate their hugs before. But this time... she just couldn't help it. He buried his face in her neck in that way he had and she repressed a shudder at the feel of his warm breath on her skin. 

"I'm glad you're okay, sir." 

She felt him nod. He held her for a few moments until they could both feel that she'd collected herself. And then he pulled back from her. He fingered her hair. "I really do prefer the blonde," he said. Then he winked and walked out of her lab. 

 


End file.
